Pudding's Everyday Life
by Lady Papillon Rose
Summary: Pudding's life isn't easy, but she manages. Series of drabbles. Drama/Angst/Friendship.
1. Pudding's Life is Orderly

-oOo-

Pudding's Everyday Life

-oOo-

By: Papi

* * *

><p>Part One: Pudding's Life is Orderly, 001<p>

* * *

><p>The whispers have silenced, recently, and that brings her some level of comfort.<p>

"Why is that child always shopping here?"

"Where are her parents?"

"Maybe she doesn't have any?"

Those were the things they whispered before, just loudly enough for everyone to hear, middle-aged women with little more to do than gossip about the few shreds of dissonance in the homogenous world they lived in.

As the months have passed, she's become part of the scenery, pushing her cart along, examining labels with her head tilted to the side and one eye squinted shut, turning vegetables over in her hands carefully to feel for soft spots.

In the street, she is a performer, in uniform, she is a warrior, and in the cafe she is a menace to both expensive china and sanity, but for now she's quiet and reflective, all too aware that the money in her pocket may or may not stretch to cover the costs of feeding five mouths alongside herself.

Golden eyes roam back and forth throughout the aisles, settling on the lowest prices - the cheapest brand of rice, bamboo shoots, dried mushrooms, fish that's marked down just before going off - she'll make sure to cook THAT as soon as she can, probably tonight.

A tiny, tiny jar of ketchup, because Heicha doesn't eat fish without ketchup. A tiny, tiny amount of flour and powdered sugar, for Cake Day towards the end of the week. A tiny, tiny amount of candy - just enough to keep five small children happy, because seeing her brothers and sister happy gives Pudding Fong the energy to keep moving.

Those roving golden eyes pause, momentarily, on a brand of custard pudding she hasn't tasted in years. She remembers the last time she tasted the sweet, creamy caramel topping fanning out across her tongue, sitting across from - beautiful hazel eyes beneath deep purple tresses, a trademark smile that she hopes she's inherited - in a cafe, just the two of them. Smiling was never a chore, then. It came so easily. It's still fairly easy, although sometimes the gesture doesn't come as naturally as she'd like.

The price label beneath the packages always causes her to recoil, so she moves along, never looking back.

Still, as she stands in line, clutching a fistful of bills that will hopefully carry her little family through to her next paycheck (and the next disappointing letter that arrives towards the end of every month), she subconsciously licks her lips, recalling the sweet taste of caramel.

-oOo-

_Author's Notes: I haven't written consistently in such a long time, so this is just a series of drabbles intended to ease me back into writing fanfiction. I'm going to try to post a new piece every day. I've sort of chilled on intrusive author's notes, so they'll be pretty limited. Since this is more Family/Friendship oriented than what I usually write, there really won't be much pairing development besides brief mentions of the canon Ichigo/Masaya. And yes, the title and format is borrowed from a webcomic based on Elfen Lied, Nana's Everyday Life, although this won't be NEARLY as depressing. Dear God, not by a long shot. The -oOo- symbols are, of course, my spacing method to get around using those ugly grey bars too much._


	2. Pudding's Life is Orderly but Exciting

Pudding is a good sister.

The five childish voices that rise in unison to greet her upon arrival washes any worry still apparent in her expression, and she immediately launches into the role of Onee-chan (or Jiě Jie, as the quadruplets have yet to fully shed their Chinese in favor of the local language the way Heicha has through the course of school). Dropping her bags in the doorway, she rummages around for the small packages of candy while her siblings bounce in place in anticipation, chattering simultaneously. It's a scene full of life and excitement that permeates the air, much like when Pudding is with her friends at the café.

The quadruplets and Heicha have their favorites, and she does her best to respect that. Strawberry and apple gummies for Hanacha and Chincha; ginger-flavored hard candy for Lucha, and green tea hard candy for Honcha. The quadruplets dash off clutching their prizes to trade amongst each other, and Heicha stands before Pudding, her four-year old eyes large with anticipation. "Onee-chan?"

Pudding smiles gently, reaching into her pocket for something that cost a little more than she wanted to spend, but the glow of adoration on her little sister's face when she hands her the (small, of course) strawberry chocolate bar. "Of course I remembered!"

Heicha dashes forward and buries her face in her older sister's skirt, hugging her tightly. Pudding hugs her back, and they stay like that for a brief moment before Heicha follows her brothers to show off her 'special' present from their onee-chan.

While they're occupied, Pudding wastes no time in lugging her groceries to the kitchen to get started on dinner without five small children underfoot for a change.


	3. Pudding's Life is Not So Bad

Pudding is an excellent cook.

She stands in her kitchen, _her_ kitchen, at only ten years old, because she's the lady of the house. The warm red tiles on the floor are spotless, usually, and the few appliances pristinely kept. Spotless surfaces; she thinks her mother might've been proud of her, if she could see her eldest now.

She lays out vegetables, and meat, just enough to feed her siblings as she already consumed plenty of leftovers at the cafe earlier. Mint called her a bottomless pit, curling her lip with feigned disapproval, as usual, but Keiichiro merely smiled, waving her on dismissively. _Go ahead, we can't serve these tomorrow anyway. They won't taste as good after this long._

Sometimes Pudding has to resist the urge to dart forward and hug the older man, warmed by the feeling of a wonderfully full stomach. But that would be breaking character, perhaps, so she squeals her appreciation and scales the furniture, blowing raspberries at Mint while she fumes.

Pudding is an _expert_ at multitasking.

Everything is a performance. You never know who could be watching, so make it good.

The quadruplets and Heicha gather around, awaiting their daily entertainment. Their older sister may occasionally flub a trick or two, but not _too_ often. With one hand she tosses diced chicken in a frying pan, the other whacking away at vegetables and skillfully flicking the pieces into the steaming pan with the meat.

Pudding doesn't stop to actually think about what she's doing, or how. She's on autopilot, while her body does the damn near impossible. Otherwise, she might make a mistake, and that would just be a disaster.

The aroma of stir-fried chicken and vegetables fills the air, and her siblings all run to the table where their bowls are set out for the finale. Ordinarily a bit of good natured bickering would erupt between the five of them, but the youngest members of the Fong family are too focused on dinner to argue with each other.

Pudding glances over her shoulder, grinning. "Is everyone ready?"

Five voices ring out in unison. "Yes!"

Taking off like a rocket, Pudding dashes over to the table with her frying pan and spatula in tow, tossing the pan's contents high into the air and using the spatula to fling them into the bowls on the table as they return. The silver head of the spatula cuts through the air in a complicated pattern that her siblings' eyes can't follow, but the bowls of food before them are far more important than how it got there.

The quadruplets and Heicha cheer once more before digging in, and Pudding takes a bow, careful not to burn herself with the still piping hot frying pan she's holding. That's for amateurs.

As they eat, chattering between bites, Pudding attends to the various messes they've left throughout the house during the day. It occurs to her that were her mother still alive, were her father not out training constantly, and were they still in the village she was born in back in China that perhaps her parents would already be discussing finding a match for her.

After all, it's clear that she'd make an _excellent_ housewife one day.

The thought causes her to pause in her sweeping, her usual ever present smile fading.

Here, in this house in Japan where she is so many things and plays more roles than a child should, she wonders if she's really that upset with where life has led her. These are heavy thoughts for a child, but recently Pudding hasn't felt very much like one of the classmates she sits beside in school.

Aside from having met her wonderful friends and accepting her destiny, Pudding is somewhat glad she's in Tokyo.


	4. Pudding's Life is Scary

In the middle of the night, Pudding worries.

No one knows this, because she waits until the quadruplets and Heicha are fast asleep, having been tucked in and sung to or lulled to sleep with promises of how wonderful life will be one day, although it's not too shabby now. Sometimes they'll awaken in the middle of the night and migrate to her room, crawling into bed with her one by one until she's blanketed and warmed by the bodies of slumbering children; she always chides them for not sleeping in their own beds in the morning in an insincere manner.

But that's later, and in the meanwhile, the facade of warrior and guardian melt away to reveal a little girl who's suddenly very apprehensive about being alone in the dark, willing herself to sleep. It's not like there's anyone to tuck _her_ in.

Deep breaths. This isn't scary. Fighting is scary. Tart is scary, sometimes, when the bravado fades and the immature brat recedes, leaving a fiend with cold, gleaming eyes and teeth that are Sharp. She thinks Kish and the others might have fangs, but Pudding can't remember too well right now. But fighting is scary, actual fighting that results in cuts and scrapes and being thrown across a battlefield while a slavering beast nips at your heels. The thought of dying is terrifying. No, not really. The thought of not coming home to her siblings is terrifying, enough to make her heart actually freeze in her chest, her lungs sucking in nothing and the world is spinning and she can't remember how to breathe-

That is scary.

Comparatively, the dark should pose no threat greater than what the light reveals.

Perhaps Mew Pudding and Pudding Fong are two completely different entities, then, because Pudding huddles beneath her blanket at times like this, arms wrapped around her midsection. She pretends her mother and father are asleep down the hallway, close enough to hear her and come running if she breaks and a scream forces itself between the lips she's squeezed shut.

And with her defenses down, the anxiety creeps beneath the blanket with her, no longer held at bay by her radiant smile. Things a child shouldn't have to worry about - the letter at the end of the month that arrives with precious words for herself and her siblings, and even more valuable money to supplement what she brings in from the cafe and performing in the park. Money is always a source of anxiety, and Pudding wishes she didn't have to worry as much as she does. It would be nice, for the concept to simply be novelty; money for treats at the candy store a few blocks from school, or new ribbons for her hair. The way her classmates see it.

Recently, Pudding's been envying them more and more, although she keeps it locked away in her chest and barely acknowledges its existence.

Other things. Finding the Mew Aqua. Keeping her identity as Mew Pudding from interfering with her life as Pudding Fong; she's not sure what she would do if her siblings got hurt somehow.

The father she hasn't seen in years, who's taken the form of a stack of letters - is he okay? Will she recognize him when he shows up, one day, having mastered all the martial artistry his body can absorb? Will he be proud of his eldest daughter, shouldering a burden that would probably hobble an adult?

These are things a child shouldn't have to worry about.

Pudding worries about them, and chews at her lip in the dark.


End file.
